


scar me so i'll know

by ceserabeau



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceserabeau/pseuds/ceserabeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your life is pain and suffering, black eyes and cracked ribs, until Derek Hale reaches a hand down into an open grave and breathes life back into you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	scar me so i'll know

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Nicole Blackman's _All I Want For Christmas_ :  
> I want your touches to scar me so I’ll know where you’ve been.

It’s not the first time someone’s thrown a glass at you; at least none of the shards go into your face this time. Although that would be better, because then there’d be something to actually heal rather than the phantom ache in your chest as Derek shouts at you to get out.

-

This is what drowning feels like:

Water everywhere, sweeping up and over and in, eating you alive. Sliding into your mouth and down down _down_ , filling you up no matter how hard you try to push it out, icy cold and burning hot at the same time. And when you break the surface and some air slips into your lungs, your poor lungs where blood vessels are beginning to explode _inside_ you, there are hands on you pushing you back down, forcing you, killing you.

Everything is cold except the heat from Derek's hand where it rests over your heart.

-

You're awake but you're not, everything blurry, hazy, shifting this way and that, voices echoing around your head. The only thing you can really focus on is whoever's holding you, strong and solid beneath you, someone who smells familiar: like cheap deodorant and beneath that, spices and leather and charred wood. It smells like home.

-

Derek tosses you around so easily, like you weigh nothing, like you are nothing. The entire room is sharp edges that will bruise black-purple-blue, if only for a moment. You can feel them healign under the skin, blood shifting, vessels rejoining. 

At least Erica is just as bad at this fighting thing as you, possibly worse, which is funny, kind of, except not really because that's the line between life and death right now. Boyd just sits and watches; apparently he doesn't care about learning how to survive. 

You forget it all though, when Derek puts his hands on you and they're hot, so hot, burning, and it's the only thing you can think about. When your arm snaps, you barely feel a thing. 

\- 

The bite _hurts_. 

You're on your knees in the damp earth of the graves you've been digging - there's something poetic there, sure, but you can't quite think through the pain. It feels like the time dad pressed an iron against your skin and held it until you passed out to the sound of sizzling and the smell of burning meat. 

Derek's hand are cool, clammy against where a fever is clawing over your skin. They bracket your throat like a necklace, a chain, like a garrotte. You wouldn't take them off even if you could. 

-

Your life is pain and suffering, black eyes and cracked ribs, until Derek Hale reaches a hand down into an open grave and breathes life back into you.


End file.
